The Count of Ehrenstein remained silent; and well he might, for there, in the presence of the Emperor, guarded by two stout soldiers, stood the Baron of Eppenfeld, with the same look of careless, almost gay, indifference which we have seen him bear on so many and so varied occasions, without a touch of fear, of embarrassment or remorse.
"Ah! plunderer and knave, have you been caught at length?" exclaimed the Emperor, with his eyes flashing, as he gazed upon the Baron. "By the Lord that lives! I will put down such as you within this empire, so that the memory of your cruel deeds and of your terrible punishment shall become a tale to frighten children with."
"Faith! my good Lord," replied the Baron; "if you do that, you will have to sweep your house clean; for I am not one whit worse than at least a half of your good nobles, only I have done what I thought fit to do somewhat more openly. To take men's purses sword in hand, to my mind, is not half so bad as to rot their reputation with a smooth tongue; to make men's merchandise pay toll on the highways of the world is a better deed than to ruin them by false accusations; to fight against strong men with harness on their backs, better than to skin poor boors alive who have no means of defending themselves."
"There is some truth in what you say," replied the Emperor; "yet you shall find that other men's crimes shall not excuse your own. Now, what know you of this Lord of Ehrenstein, here?"
"Oh, I know a good deal," answered the Baron, with a careless laugh; "but look you, Lord Emperor, you have used sharp words to my ear, and if I take your meaning rightly, you intend to use a sharp axe on my neck. Now, I say, out upon those fools who babble when they die! The wolf, the wolf is the brave beast who will not give one howl when the dogs worry him. If there be any profit in speaking, I will speak; but if I am to go on the long march, I will troop off in silence. If there be any choice which is to go, the Lord of Ehrenstein or I, why, I would decline the honour, and beg him to lead the way; but if I am to go at all events, I do not need his company. I can travel alone quite well to the low bed in the dark house."
"Your very words are a confession, robber," replied the Emperor; "and you shall die whether you speak or not. I will not barter justice due on one man's head, even for evidence against another, perhaps not less guilty."
"I can supply the testimony he refuses to give, mighty lord," said Count Frederick of Leiningen, in a grave tone. "It is with deep regret that I place in your Majesty's hands these papers, taken by me when we stormed the castle of Eppenfeld. I have looked over them, and have held them until now, in the hope that one who was a companion of my boyhood would show some signs of repentance for deeds so black as those disclosed this night; but now I am bound to give them up, that justice may be done. You will there see the price given, or offered, for the death of Ferdinand of Ehrenstein and his mother, and will find full proof of the truth of all that good Franz Creussen has advanced."
The Count of Ehrenstein folded his arms upon his chest, and raised his head haughtily. "All are against me here," he said, in a stern and bitter tone. "My lord the Emperor, I did not come here prepared for these charges. False and groundless I pronounce them to be; and false and groundless I will prove them; but I still require time to call my own evidence, and to send for some who are now at a distance, but who can show that this accusation has been devised to ruin me; that those papers are fabricated; and that this Baron of Eppenfeld has long threatened me with disclosing the pretended treachery on my part against my brother's widow, sometimes affirming, sometimes denying--ay, even in writing--that his charge was true. Here is one present,--this very reverend priest, the chaplain of Count Ferdinand,--who has seen his denial of all these charges; nay, more, who even saw him sign it, and read it over to him."
"Ha! ha! ha! my friend, the knave!" cried the Baron of Eppenfeld. "Say you so?--say you so? What, these are all lies of my invention, are they? 'Tis good--'tis mighty good. But now, remember, I spare you no more. I was quite ready to do you a good turn, and die--if needs must be--without speaking; but now you turn so ungratefully upon me, all the truth shall out."
"You see, my mighty lord," said the Count, turning to the Emperor, "that he is moved by every breath of passion, and not by the simple voice of truth. Let the priest speak. Did he, or did he not, my reverend friend, sign a paper, denying all these charges to be true, after having heard every word written therein read clearly over to him?"